1885
by fanofthearts
Summary: Set two years after Warehouse 13 has been destroyed Myka uses H.G. Wells's time machine to search for Victor Hugo's pamphlet Napoleon le Petit.  There she accidently runs into the one person she was trying to avoid. HG/Myka Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Set two years after Warehouse 13 has been destroyed Myka uses HG Wells's time machine to search for Victor Hugo's pamphlet Napoleon le Petit. There she accidently runs into the one person she was trying to avoid.

AN: This is my first fic for Warehouse 13, please be nice and review. I am the only one that is betaing this, please excuse any spelling or grammar errors. I have taken many liberties including time, H.G. Well's wealth growing up, and London itself (since I've never been there). Please forgive me. There is femslash ahead, be warned now.

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It had been two years since the Warehouse had been destroyed; if Myka was honest with herself it had been two years since she herself had died. Oh the shell of her old self was still here, snagging, bagging, and tagging but it wasn't the same. The pocket watch had reversed the effects of the explosion restoring the Warehouse and its Keeper but nothing else was saved. It had taken months for them to function again and after two long grueling years' things seemed to be settling into a normal rut, well as normal as things could ever be. They had all been affected deeply by what had happened but were slowly moving forward. At the current moment Myka was pacing back and forth in front of the HG Wells storage area.

"Artie I'm not sure this is a good idea." Her fingers nervously played with the locket that had adorned her neck since the day HG had died.

"And you think I do? Myka I don't want you to use this thing but we have to get eyes on the pamphlet! It is making the Prime Minister go insane! If we can find out where it is then we can simply snag it and bag it here and now."

"Tell me again why we can't simply go to England and look for it now?"

"Security Myka, we've been over this before, we couldn't get close enough in such a short time. I would send Pete but given the circumstances I can't. This worked before in the glass girl case, even though it was against my wishes, and it will work again now." He ushered her to the chair, "Please."

Myka rubbed the back of her neck, she didn't want to go back, and she knew if she did she would be tempted to seek out the one person she would never be able to see again. She wanted Pete to go but he had an emergency appendicitis earlier that morning and Artie would not wait. She looked over at Claudia who was hooking up the machine to its new power source and setting the date back from the 1960's to 1885. "It will be perfectly safe Myka, I promise. I've updated it some; you should be able to take your own body…well, not physically. Your body will be projected onto the person you are inhabiting. Cool huh?" Claudia smiled but it didn't quite meet her eyes. Myka couldn't remember the last time she saw her friend truly happy.

"But, how are we sure the pamphlet isn't somewhere on Guernsey? I mean that is where it was written." She asked, stalling Artie from pushing her down into the contraption.

"Yes but the Prime Minister of England hasn't been to Guernsey in the past year."

Myka rolled her shoulders and looked up at the ceiling. She would be in London at the same time Helena was, she didn't know if she could control herself. She did the math in her head; the writer would be nineteen at the time, she would be a young woman, someone she never met. Myka took a deep breath, she would do her job and if there was time she would perhaps stroll by the Wells' manor, maybe she could catch a glimpse. "Okay, let's get started."

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She had forgotten about the unbelievable splitting head ache that accompanied time travel. Her knees hit the cobblestone hard and she groaned. Looking up at the gray sky she could tell it was early morning, very early morning. The oil lamps that lined the street had yet to be extinguished. She looked around in awe; she was standing in Victorian England on a rainy morning. Letting out a laugh she dusted herself off she took stock of her body; it was a woman, in her early 20's she guessed, in surprisingly good shape. Turning to her right she looked into a store front's window to try and make out her reflection. The glass had a film of mist covering it; making it difficult to see. As she tried to get a better angle she wondered what on earth this young woman was doing out on the street this early in the day. A shot of fear went through her, what if she was transported into a prostitute's body? Finally getting a decent angle in the glass her stomach rolled, the image looking back at her was none other than Helena Grace Wells.

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Did you read it? Take a second to review it please, it will make my day.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

A.N: Thank you for your sweet review! They mean a lot. Please, if you read it review it. It only takes a few seconds. Yet again my imagination has run away with me, the timeline for inventions of things might be off.

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Myka pressed closer to the glass thinking that it was an optical illusion; surely she wasn't in Helena's body! She took in the dark, rich hair piled on top of her head, the long neck, dark eyes, and creamy skin. She gasped, "Oh my GOD!" She touched her cheek, the hand in the glass followed. "Of all the people in the world…" She looked around trying to get her bearings. The street was full of shops, looking up she saw a road sign that read Regent Circus. What in the world was Helena doing here?

"There you are!" Exclaimed a loud voice, she whirled coming face to face with the infamous H. G. Wells. She was stunned silent, this was not happening. "I've been looking all over for you! It's a good thing I found you, if I was father…" He grabbed her arm a bit too roughly; Myka winced as his nails curled into her skin. "Bloody hell Helena, what are you wearing? If father sees you like this he will tan you're hide, you are no longer a young girl running about in the country, why you are practically an old maid." He began pulling her down the deserted street. Myka looked down at her sensible trousers, lace up men's shirt, and button boots, very inappropriate for a woman in Helena's day.

Myka continued to get pulled down the street, "Charles, you're hurting me." She jerked her arm away. The breath froze in her throat when she heard Helena's strong voice coming out of her body.

"Hurry on then! Mr. Anderson is coming this afternoon and you must be cleaned up."

Myka rubbed her arm, duly following behind Charles, "Mr. Anderson?"

Charles sighed, "Yes, Mr. Anderson, we all went over this last night Helena for bullocks sakes!"

Myka frowned at the feeling of dread and fear that coursed through Helena's body at the sound of his name. Who was he to her? "What time is it?"

"Half past five, really Helena!" Charles opened the gate to a modest sized three story brick house and trotted up the stairs. "You better run directly to your room before anyone sees you in that dreadful outfit."

Myka was about to reply but thought better of it; she needed time to think and arguing with a chauvinist like Charles would get her nowhere. Her head was spinning, she closed the door behind her and trudged up the narrow staircase, there were four doors on the second floor, and all were closed. Chewing on her lip she headed up another flight her eyes darting around the dim hall. Which one was it? She pressed her ear to the first door and could hear someone moving around. She crossed the hall and tried the room adjacent, silence greeted her. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open and immediately she knew she had the correct room. Two walls had built in book cases filled books; all what were now considered classics. Closing the door behind her Myka just stared; this was Helena's childhood home, where she grew up. She stepped over to the big four poster bed and picked up a pillow she brought it to her nose and inhaled. Her senses were immediately greeted with Helena's soft perfume and her own scent. Heavily she sat down on the bed and let herself sob.

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A rap at the door brought her out of her sorrow. Shooting up off the bed Myka looked at the door, praying whoever it was would leave. "Miss Wells? Breakfast is served down stairs."

Myka cleared her throat; she was in no way ready for that. "That's-that's fine thank you, but I fear I will not be down."

"Are you ill?" The small voice came again.

"No, I-I guess I'm just too nervous about Mr. Anderson to eat." She made a face; hopefully whatever Mr. Anderson wanted was responsible for the feeling of unsettledness that flowed through Helena's body.

"Completely understandable Miss."

Myka sighed in relief, "Could you give my regards to my father please."

"Of course Miss." Myka listened as the footfalls of who she assumed was a servant descended the stairs.

Setting down the pillow that she had been crying into she quickly walked over to a small desk that sat in front of the window. She felt no guilt riffling through the pages strewn about. Helena's handwriting had not changed much during the years. It was bold and slanted, after reading a few sentences she realized she was reading a very rough draft of SelectConversationswithanUncle. She let out a laugh and tears stung her eyes yet again. How she wanted to hold Helena, but now she was stuck in her body, oh the irony. She knew Helena kept a diary; she desperately needed to find out who Mr. Anderson was and why his coming filled her with such dread. Looking through the desk brought nothing, turning around she spotted a nightstand next to the bed. Opening the drawer she found a small brown book. Pulling it out and opening it to the last filled page she began to read.

5th of April, 1885

Father informed me that there would be no more delay; Mr. Anderson is arriving tomorrow from Kent to begin his courting of me. We shall be married next month. I fear my life is over.

Myka felt her heart break, Helena never mentioned a husband. Did she marry him? Of course this was Victorian England; Helena would have to be married. She was the oldest daughter it was expected of her. Was Christina a result of their marriage?

She heard someone on the stairs and quickly put the diary back in the drawer and held her breath, the person kept going. She remembered Charles's warning about her clothes and quickly went to the armoire, opening it she was greeting with many, many dresses, all of different cuts and colors. She assumed that since Mr. Anderson was coming she was expected to dress up. Pulling a crimson silk dress out, she laid it on the bed. Crossing to the door she slid the lock into place before unbuttoning the shirt. As she un-tucked it from her pants a small leather pouch fell to the floor. Frowning she reached forward, it was light but there was definitely something inside. Untying the straps she dumped the contents onto the blue wool quilt on the bed. Three white capsules tumbled out. Myka frowned, why was Helena carrying around pills? Maybe she was sick? The body she was in didn't feel sick but it hummed with an anxiety that was hard to ignore. She picked one up and smelled it, the bitter smell of rotten almonds hit her nose, and she gagged. "Oh Helena." She whispered, now she knew what she was doing on the street that early in the morning. Gathering the pills she crossed to the banked fire in the corner of the room and threw them into the ambers. Turning back to the bed she dropped her pants, her mission for the warehouse all but forgotten, she had to find a way to save Helena.

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Tbc.

If you read it please take a moment to review it. It will only take you a moment and it will make my day. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry there has been such a delay, this story seems to keep turning back on itself so I didn't want to go any farther for fear I'd have to go back and change something. Thus the updates aren't too long right now, but they will be getting longer. Thank you to my amazing reviewers! You guys, it means the world to me

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's not betaed so please excuse silly grammar or spelling errors.

If you read it, please review it. It makes me type faster and makes me smile.

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"Artie relax it's only been twenty minutes!"

"I know, I know. I'm just worried, I should have waited and sent Pete, I don't know if she is strong enough to stay away from H.G."

"She will be she knows she has a job to do." Claudia said with a confidence she did not feel. She wasn't sure of the exact kind of relationship that Myka and H.G. had, but she was almost positive given more time the women would have became more than just friends. She rubbed her face this was going to be a very long day.

"Are you sure you have everything plugged in right?" Artie stopped pacing and shuffled over to the machine. His worn tennis shoes slipped and he got caught up in a power cord. Losing his balance he lunched forward, putting his arms out he caught himself on the side of the machine stopping the inevitable face planting. In the process he hit the "transporting image' switch, the machine gave a groan.

"NO!" Claudia jumped up and ran across the room, "Please say you did not hit that switch!"

Artie looked over at Myka, her face remained impassive. "I'm sorry! I slipped."

"UGHHH!" Claudia quickly went over to the computer she had hooked up the machine and began checking the status and vitals, things began to dip, and Myka's pulse began racing.

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Myka was struggling with a corset, something she never imagined trying to squeeze her…err Helena's body into. Finally getting it into a position where it didn't feel like a hundred needles were sticking her she turned and faced the slightly warped mirror. She longed for a crystal clear 21st century looking glass. Standing up tall she observed how the corset pushed up her breasts while it pulled in her waist. Myka studied Helena's young body, she had a layer of fat on her that was absent after time in the bronzer, her face was fuller now too but it was hard to miss the dark circles that hung under her eyes, it was clear that the young woman was under an immense amount of stress. Even with the added layer Helena was a gorgeous woman, from her long slender neck, dark hair, full breasts, and slender legs Myka found herself hot and bothered by the image in the mirror. "Oh God!" She threw her hands up, "Getting turned on by yourself…well." She shook her head; time traveling in someone else's body was confusing. There was a light rap on the door, "Helena?"

"Oh crap." Myka reached for the dress lying on the bed and held it in front of her. "Yes?"

"Could you open the door please?" A woman's voice called.

"Shit." She muttered and slowly inched towards the door, unlatching it she peered out. Her eyes fell on a woman in her mind forties, her dark brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun and she was beginning to gray around the temple.

"Oh, you are planning on wearing the red dress?" the woman tutted pushing her way into the room, "Really Helena, red, such an inappropriate color for a woman your age and stature. And you wonder why we no longer let you go shopping without a chaperone."

Myka opened her mouth to respond when the woman ripped the dress out of her hands and flung it onto the bed, it landed on top of the men's shirt and trousers. "What is that?" The woman exclaimed with disgust. She picked up clothing and pitched them at Myka who caught them, "Disgusting! I thought your brother burned all of these." The slap took her completely by surprise. Myka dropped her face into her hand to try and stop the stinging; the woman's ring had cut her cheek. "How many times have we told you no? The minister told you it was an abomination!" The blows came in emphasis with her words, deft hands raining the fury down upon her until Myka dropped to her knees. "You are sick! Be glad you're father has found someone willing to marry you after the word of your perversion got out. Mr. Anderson was nice enough to agree to help fix you." The woman stood and straightened her dress. "Get up, get dressed and not in THAT dress. Mr. Anderson will arrive in two hours." And like nothing had happened the woman breezed out of the room shutting the door soundly behind her.

Myka stumbled to her feet, pushing the mass of hair out of her face she turned to the mirror, an angry red line cut across her left cheek, the cut wasn't deep but it throbbed as did her entire head and neck. She went to the basin in the corner and splashed some of the cool water on her face. Her heart broke for Helena and again the tears flowed, how had she survived in this hell? She thought back on the woman's words, "you're perversion", had Helena been caught with a female lover by her mother? Maybe Charles had caught them? She shook her head, oh how she wished she could hold Helena, pull her back to her time where she belonged and protect her from the world. She now knew the fear that this body possessed, not only was Helena afraid of being trapped in marriage she was also scared to death of the 'cure' the woman talked about. She reached for the cotton towel that was lying next to the porcelain bowl when a horrid headache hit her. Suddenly the world went dark.

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TBC…

If you read it please take a second to review it. Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

It has been forever since I updated, I am so sorry. I'm not done with this story, I promise. Here is a short installment. Please take the time to review! Thanks

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"Did it work?!" Artie was standing sweating over Claudia's shoulder.

"Ew, man you need a shower." She waved her hand in front of her face to remove the smell of Artie. "It worked, she's stable again but I'm sure she felt that. I'm not sure if her own body image disappeared or if the person she is in has shone through." Claudia rubbed her forehead. "Either way it wasn't good." Artie still hovered, "Will you please SIT DOWN over there," She pointed to a folding chair in the corner, "Or go somewhere and freshen up? You're making me nervous."

Artie paused running his stubby hands through his hair, "Yeah, right. I'll just…um yeah." He glanced over at Myka. "She's fine though?"

Claudia spun in her chair and placed her hands on the older man's shoulder, "Yes, she is fine. Please chilliax will you?" She said in a strong voice that surprised even herself.

He nodded, "I'm just going to go shower and change. I'll have my Farnsworth with me. Call me if anything and I mean anything changes."

Claudia watched him go, she was worried, what if Myka's entire image just changed? She prayed that she was nowhere near anyone when it happened.

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Myka gave a shout, jumping up she knocked her head on the ceiling of the coach. She looked around, it was filled with a putrid smelling sweet smoke, "Cecelia my dear, really." A deep voice grumbled from across the small space. She frantically looked around, her head ached and the smoke coming from the man's pipe was not helping the nausea that was threatening her stomach. What the hell just happened?

"Where-Where are we?"

The man leaned forward to get a better view of the scenery around them, "The outskirts of London, almost there love." He went back to his newspaper.

The outskirts of London? She was just in Helena's bedroom AS HELENA, now she was apparently Cecelia and in a carriage. She had to get back to Helena, she had to help her, "Where are we going?" She dared to ask, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

The older man raised his fuzzy gray eyebrows at her. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes. I-I um just had the strangest dream."

He chuckled, "You women and your hysteria. We'll be at the Wells' house soon."

Myka blanched, they were going to Helena's house? Of course there could be many other Wells in London, it didn't mean that they were going to THE Wells, but what were the chances? She examined the man across from her, she guessed he was in his late fifties to early sixties, his thin graying hair hidden by a hat that was perched almost comically on his head, he looked well off, and his wool suit was obviously custom made for his large body. He chewed on the end of his pipe as he thumbed through his newspaper; his almost white mustache and beard was stained brown from the tobacco. Who was he to her, husband, uncle, father? She ran her hands nervously over the blue silk dress, her hands were incased in white pearl studded gloves, the whale bone in the corset she wore under her dress was biting into her ribs and she found it difficult to take a full breath, how she longed to be back in the comfortable clothes Helena was wearing when she first entered her body. Soon they hit the cobblestone streets of London and her traveling companion put his paper away and leaned forward in his seat to look out the window. "Not long now Cece." She smiled tightly at the man and went back to looking out the window, absolutely fascinated by what she was seeing.

"I think your mother would have approved."

Myka frowned, "Of what?"

"Of our marriages of course!" He let out a loud laugh, "Really girl, are you that in love with him that your head is full of fluff?"

Myka turned to him, wide eyed, "No-no, I guess I'm just excited." Thank God she wasn't marrying the man across from her, but who was she marrying…or for a better term, who was Cecelia marrying. The driver tapped on the roof of the carriage signaling they were arriving at their destination.

He smiled a tobacco stained grin at her and she felt her stomach turn, "I'm sure you and Charles will be quite happy, as happy as me and Helena."

"Wha-?" Myka's brain kicked into overdrive she was to marry Charles and this-this must be Mr. Anderson, he was to marry Helena? Her Helena? He could be her father! Or even her grandfather! This was the man who agreed to 'fix' her love. The thought of him touching her made her stomach roll. Myka tried to take a deep breath but the corset stopped her lungs from expanding, she tried again desperate to get air into her body but the corset was too tight. The man exhaled a puff a pipe smoke and she gagged, her vision began to darken around the edges; she tried to fight the feeling but quickly lost the battle. Everything went dark.

TBC

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